Banjo

He was certainly a nasty piece of work, but an absolute whizz on the banjo.

He was always happy to play for any visitors who came through his front door, this being the primary reason he had so many come and go, but there was always the strict rule that nobody touched his precious banjo! This had always been respected on account of the fact that it was quite evident that in all other respects he was not a nice person. Many felt truly saddened when these jolly musical events came to an abrupt end. It wasn’t made clear just how he’d come to meet his maker, but newspaper reports had indicated that it involved a shootout in a nightclub. It had always been suspected that he was a major player in the local drug trade.

Despite the bad publicity, and in memory of so many delightful evenings spent listening to him play, the wake that was held for him attracted a great many followers.

On the day, several eulogies were given and a number of people had brought drink, along with several plates of nicely prepared finger food. For a while, the party atmosphere filled the room with noisy chatter, fond memories and laughter.

This changed unexpectedly, when one of the man’s greatest admirers took the instrument down from the peg on the wall and began to strum a slow tribute to the dead musician.

The first thing they noticed was the heat building up in the room, accompanied by a sulphurous odour. That was when the flames started to appear. These quickly grew and leapt up, skirting the room. That’s when the screaming started. Luckily, somebody managed to get the back door open and amid the chaos of shouting and shrieking, they all managed to get out into the back garden.

This was followed by a great deal of pointless complaining.

After all, it wasn’t as though any of them hadn’t been told…